


you ever see (a dead body)?

by Sharpworksamurai



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 2shot, Blood, Child Abuse, Death, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Explicit Child Abuse, Gen, Gore, Mental Health Issues, strong references to prostitution, strong references to suicide, the fucking gang ayy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharpworksamurai/pseuds/Sharpworksamurai
Summary: Klaus stares in shock; the same Harold that laughed at his lame jokes and blushed when Klaus winked at him, was dimed in an orange jumpsuit. A branded criminal.“Harold?” Klaus stands up, bracing against the wall and Ben gives out a noise of confusion, “What the fuck you doing ‘ere?”“Just,” Harold waves around a hand, dismissive and sets down the clothes, before clambering onto his bed, “This and that.” Klaus narrows his eyes and looks around Harold, eyes widening when he sees an old man with his head bashed in. His head was dribbling down with blood and his eye socket were concave. The ghost was trying to shout at Harold but his breath would catch in a horrible wheeze as he tries to sputter out the blood from his wound. Klaus drew in a shaky breath.“Murder?” Harold looks up, jolting  back before nodding, slowly.//Or an AU where Klaus meets Harold in prison and tries to divert the apocalypse.





	1. floating, aimless (tethered down)

**Author's Note:**

> strong reference to prostitution and suicide 
> 
> Ik harold kills his dad when he's like 10 but i aged that event up a bit just so they could have meet before. also i know getting a few years for murder isn't real but i needed to have klaus and harold out by 30 so yee

Klaus groans as he leans against the lamp post. The yellow light is weak, casting a sickly tint across Klaus’s shaking hands and doing nothing to ward away the darkness of the abandoned street. The street itself is packed with grime, plastic and junk spilling across dumpsters with weird stains on the street. It isn’t the nicest place in town, but it is moderately far away from the Academy and where paparazzi would normally be.

This is the third time Klaus is trying to run away; only at the tender age of fifteen but the last time he ran away, during the peak of midnight as soon as the light of Reginald’s office had turned off, the police had found him within a day and dragged him home, kicking and screaming. 

Klaus hums as he remembers how he had told the officers the abuse and the trauma- how nothing is like how it is on their television screens, but they merely turned a blind eye. The officers smiled when Reginald had grabbed Klaus’s shoulder and dragged him inside. 

(Later, his pyjamas on, Klaus had sat near the window with his knees drawn up to his chest, hoping that the familiar siren of the police car would come back. It hadn’t and Klaus was left bloody and bruised, the shape of Reginald’s cane marring his back.) 

He ran out of his pills a while ago; something tiny, Klaus wasn’t sure. Klaus wants to go into the harder stuff, cocaine if he was lucky, but his dealer merely laughed and pulled him into a kiss. Klaus crouches against the closed shop, back hitting the wall, and contemplates as he stares into the midnight sky. 

(He wants to leave, wants to run away. Maybe Klaus could pack up his stuff and sneak away, but this time with a ticket in hand. Bus ticket to another city would be possible but Klaus knew that if he wasn’t found in a day, then the paparazzi would latch onto the news and other people would join in on the hunt. An airplane ticket would help things more but Klaus knew that he would have to fend for himself even more, especially as a drug-addicted teen. A shame; Klaus has always wanted to go to Ireland.)

Klaus hears a rattle in the fire escape in the alleyway next to him and jumps up, hoping that it's not a creepy old man who doesn’t understand that “no” means “no” or the police. He peeks around the corner, slowly, and holding his breath. Barely visible is a boy, maybe around Klaus’s age. He is bloody and lies in the corner of the alleyway, sobbing. He has brown hair, but blood is dripping onto his face and his eyes are crusted shut. He looks like he is in pain and when Klaus glances down he sees shards of glass embedded in the palm of his hands, smearing blood on the ground. Klaus thinks that the boy is a ghost, maybe killed in the alleyway and so haunts it. 

Klaus hesitates. He should say something or help; it’s something he has been bred to do from the minute he was born if he can recall the training sessions where he learnt how to break someone’s neck at age seven. He opens his mouth and starts to lean out of the opening of the alleyway when he hears a distinct siren of the police. 

Klaus shudders, looks back at the boy who is now trying to stand up and failing, before running away, trying to escape away from the Academy and failing himself. When Klaus is yanked back into Reginald’s arms, the man frowns and digs his claws deeper in Klaus, leaving him with blood dribbling down his back like the boy in the alleyway. 

(As Klaus grew older, he seems to learn how instead of being the best at breaking someone’s neck, he is the best at running.) 

//

Klaus is nineteen and Ben is dead. It’s a fact, and it feels horrible to someone who has always tried to be so dismissive, be faced with such a tragedy. Ben isn’t close with Klaus, they were, maybe, before Five left. Klaus, who liked to dance and kiss strangers with acid on their tongues, and Ben, who liked to cry after every single mission, bathed in blood like some sick twisted renaissance imagery. They used to dance together in the small space between the wardrobe and bed of Klaus’s room and whenever any of them had a nightmare, they often frequented the others room. Soft giggles turned into shared, dismissive smiles over dinner, which manifested into prolonged silences between them. 

So maybe it wasn’t a surprise that Grace had been cleaning Ben’s room with a serene smile but started screaming for help when she found Ben, eyes still blearily opened, hanging from the top of his wardrobe with a rope tied around his neck. 

Sucide, Pogo had said, quiet. 

No, Klaus wanted to object, it was murder. 

Ben was killed by his own father; every single training session that left Ben hollow during dinner, or every single mission that left Ben dissociate. A murderer was right next to a medium, and not once had he fluttered an eyelash, even at Ben’s funeral. 

They made his funeral a public affair, broadcasting it selfishly across television as if these strangers deserved to see the coffin being lowered to the ground with a hundred cameras surrounding them. As if Ben wasn’t tortured for their sins, daily, nightly, constantly. They were all wearing black, even Reginald. Allison was quietly sobbing into her hands and Klaus remembers how Vanya always gave her the side eye during the funeral, as if she was to between comforting her sister or comforting herself. Even Diego was crying, but not once had Luther’s face twitched. 

Klaus was hollow, staring at the coffin, ignoring the faint formation of his dead brother in the corner of his eye. It was a blue tint, flickering in and out of existence, still weak- but all Klaus was chanting in his head was, _please leave; don’t stay Ben. You deserve better._

Later, after Ben’s statue had been erected (Klaus heard a quiet, it looks nothing like me), Klaus was weedling in an out of a club. The sound is loud, some next generic pop song, nothing like the sad blues that Klaus had on his Walkman, and it jarrs Klaus’s head. People are pressing themselves next to Klaus, sweaty skin pushed into Klaus and even though it should be disgusting, Klaus felt giddy, maybe hysterical and far too drunk, despite only being in the club for a short time. 

He sits on top of a table, heels adorned, and isn’t surprised when he feels a stranger press into his thigh. Klaus smiles and takes a shot before looking down; it’s a mousy looking man with brown hair and equally brown eyes. A bit plain but Klaus is in a playful mood. 

“Hey!” Klaus has to shout over the loud music. 

“Hi!” The man grins and presses himself into his skin even more. His hand is warm and Klaus hums as it wanders up Klaus’s calf. 

“You wanna get out of here?” 

“Sure!” Klaus clambers down from the table and throws a few bills for the bartender. They move out of the swarm of sweaty bodies, a bit hard when you’re drunk and the ground feels like it’s shaking to only you, but eventually the man leads him outside and they sit down on a ledge near the club. The air is clean but cold, expected as it was midnight, and Klaus shivers, arms tightening around his slip dress and fishnet shirt. 

He jolts when the man drapes his jacket around Klaus’s shoulders. The man gives Klaus a smile, and in the back of Klaus’s drunken brain, he can’t help but feel like the man is familiar. 

“I’m Harold.” He looked like a Harold.

“Harold? Pfft, lame.”

“Oh yeah? What’s yours?” Harold grins in a challenge. 

“Klaus.” 

“German, huh. Suits you, even though you don’t look German.” 

Klaus cracks a smile, “Shut up, _Harold_ ”

“My name isn’t that lame!” Harold laughs and pushes against Klaus’s shoulder. To someone else it looks like he is huddling for warmth, but Klaus’s stomach clenches a bit when he sees the soft look in Harold’s eyes. 

They sit like that for a while, pressed against each other, shivering but content. Klaus is suprised; normally when nights began like this, they often ended with steamy sex, dingy drug dungeons or a visit to the police holding cell. Last time a man came up to him and started flirting with Klaus, Klaus woke up, hungover, in a police station because he had stopped traffic by yelling at a traffic cone, thinking it was Reginald. 

(Klaus had laughed but Ben tutted, disappointment turning into amusement)

It makes Klaus feel on edge, that this man is going to do something to him with no one around. Klaus looks around subtly; even though the ground is open with no restraints or anything that Klaus could bump into if he ran away, there is no one around, not even any ghosts. Perhaps Harold notices his unease as he asks, 

“How’d you get ‘em?” Klaus looks over and Harold nods to the twisted skin that crawled up and around his shoulders from his back. The fishnet shirt was tight against his scars but Klaus didn’t mind it. 

“These?” he shoots Harold a smirk, “dear old daddy’s cane.” Harold’s face falls, despite the plastic quirk of his lips. Klaus would have thought that Harold felt pity for him, but when he saw how Harold’s hands shake and clenches over each other, he looks away. 

“Yeah.” Harold murmurs, “I could drink to that.” Klaus puts his hand on Harold’s knee and squeezes it. Harold looks away but still offers a weak grin. Despite being so drunk, Klaus would have thought that this was boring; just sitting with a stranger without any booze or drugs. But maybe it was the funeral earlier or the churning in Klaus’s gut, which could have been nausea or self-hatred, but Klaus felt content- serene. 

“How old are you?” 

“Over the legal age, if you’re wondering,” Klaus gives a sly wink and Harold chuckles, even as his ears turn red. 

“Do you wanna go back to my place?” 

Klaus shrugs, leaning back on his hands, despite the gravel digging into his skin, “You got any booze?” 

“Plenty.” 

Later, well into the early morning, Harold is asleep, naked, and Klaus is perched in an armchair, looking into the empty fireplace. His place was okay, small but quaint, but Klaus couldn’t say anything, considering he is more or less homeless, if Reginald’s dirty sneer at the end of the funeral was anything but an indication. The early morning light is dimmer than the light of Klaus’s joint that’s billowing smoke and Klaus numbly apologies in his mind to Harold about the smell. He looks over; Harold himself is covered in scars, fissures in his skin. 

They were similar. Maybe they could have been, but after remembering the Academy’s cold stare and Reginald’s shouts of how worthless he is, Klaus finds himself disagreeing. 

Klaus is sore as he pulls on his clothes. He stares at Harold- his face rings in Klaus’s mind, flashes of darkness and blood and hollow sobs, but Klaus can’t pinpoint it. He looks at Harold’s relaxed face, over the dent in his nose and the scar above his eyebrow and wonders if Harold will be mad when he wakes up. 

The money,stolen from Harold’s apartment, burns in Klaus’s hand as he makes his way downstairs and starts a trek to nowhere. All the while, Klaus tries to ignore the subtle manifestation of Ben in the corner of his eye, as he tries not to mourn over such a lonely life.

//

At age twenty five, Klaus is in prison. Something to do with solicitation and drugs, Klaus isn’t sure as his mind is still foggy from coming down so hard. In contrast to the sneers from the other inmates thrown his way, Ben is a quiet fixation, his hand hovering over Klaus’s as a false sense of comfort because, no matter how sober Klaus can stay, his hand will phase through Klaus’s, dissipating and blue. 

His tattoo is on display, the umbrella one. Ever since Vanya’s book came out, people have been able to recognise Klaus, point at him and say “look! It’s the druggie one!” or laugh at how stupid he is. Klaus would know, he read her book in rehab, and found himself frowning at his depiction of being lazy and crazy, instead of acknowledging his clear trauma and overlooking his abuse. 

(Vanya could cry victim all she wanted, but she was there when Reginald made him stand against the wall and strike him with his cane, over and over again, even when the cane started to fleck blood on the white wall. Her room was right next to Ben’s when he killed himself and yet she still portrayed him as a quiet nerd who was always grumpy.) 

(Ben wasn’t mad, disappointed but not furious in the same way Klaus was.)

Klaus sat in his cell, kicking against the wall. It was his first day and his room mate would be here any moment. Klaus didn’t mind being in prison to be honest; it’s not like a criminal record could affect his pathetic job career and prison did provie him with free food and a bed. Sure, the bed was a bit creaky and he had to shower with other people, but it wasn’t torture. The door opens, startling Klaus from his inner amusement, and there, still mousy, stands Harold, clutching a pile of clothes. 

Klaus stares in shock; the same Harold that laughed at his lame jokes and blushed when Klaus winked at him was dimed in an orange jumpsuit. A branded criminal.

“Harold?” Klaus stands up, bracing against the wall and Ben gives out a noise of confusion, “What the fuck you doing ‘ere?” 

“Just,” Harold waves around a hand, dismissive and sets down the clothes, before clambering onto his bed, “This and that.” Klaus narrows his eyes and looks around Harold, eyes widening when he sees an old man with his head bashed in. His head was dribbling down with blood and his eye socket were concave. The ghost was trying to shout at Harold but his breath would catch in a horrible wheeze as he tries to sputter out the blood from his wound. Klaus drew in a shaky breath. 

“Murder?” Harold looks up, jolting back before nodding, slowly. 

“Yeah.” he whispers out, demeanor quiet before he lets out a sad chuckle, “I forgot you could do all... that.”

Klaus doesn’t say anything. He thinks about the Harold that told him he wanted to open a shop and that he loved handcrafting wooden nick nacks, despite all the splinters. He thinks about the Harold that gave him his jacket in the cold midnight weather.

Klaus nods and goes back to kicking the wall. Across from him, Ben is frowning at the ghost who is screaming at Harold the same way Reginald did to Klaus. 

//

Even though they haven’t seen each other in years, they sit next to each other at supper. The food is a tasteless blob but Harold watches Klaus gulf it down with something in his eyes akin to soft amusement. The canteen is too loud to talk, but even if it was dead silent Klaus wouldn’t have known what to talk about. Harold had murdered someone, quite violently if the ghost hovering over Harold’s shoulder could say anything. Every instinct installed by Reginald and the Academy’s hypocritical sense of morality made Klaus on edge around Harold. 

Maybe Harold notices Klaus’s shock because for the rest of the supper, even when the guards dragged them back to their cells, he doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to twist his nails into the scars imprinted onto his hands. 

//

Klaus has the bed on the left. It’s comfortable but Klaus felt amused as he remembers how, even when he was exposed to the Academy’s luxuries, it wasn’t like Klaus was in his bed often. The tomb, the midnight runaways and fiascos and hiding in his closet when he thought Reginald was wandering around his door or when the paranoia that the ghosts could touch him became too much, lead to that. Klaus squishes his flat pillow but resumes staring at the ceiling. 

They still haven’t talked, but even Ben, who was wandering outside the cell door, could sense the tension. 

“He was abusive.” 

Klaus jolts from his thoughts and turns his head. Harold is curled up, facing the wall, but his back is tense as he speaks. 

“My Dad, I mean. Just- just beat me senseless one day, even as an adult- he found my new apartment from the neighbours, I think- and I got so mad. Got a hammer and just smashed until my hands went numb.” 

Klaus swallows, thinking about the scars on Harold’s hands. He isn’t surprised at the abuse but he is at the dark and bitter tone of Harold’s voice that makes his spine shiver. 

“Oh.” 

“What about you?” 

“Prositiution or something,” Klaus huffs a laugh when Harold’s shoulders droop, “Can’t remember to be honest. You wear some really cool shorts and everyone thinks you’re a hooker- unbelievable.” Klaus chuckles, even when Harold stays quiet. 

“When do you get out?” 

“Eh,” Klaus draws out, “Six months? Right Ben?” At Ben’s thumbs up that phased through the iron door, Klaus nods, “Six months it is.” 

“That’s cool, I’m gonna be here for a few years.” 

“Yeah. Hey, at least these jumpsuits aren’t too bad! Just cut up a bit here and a bit there and bam! You have a cool ass dress!” Klaus makes a show of waving his hands and gains a laugh from Harold who has turned over now. His eyes are wet with tears but Klaus smiles when he sees him wipe those tears away. 

They sit like that for a while, incontent silence in the dark. When Klaus glances over, Harold’s breathing has slowed down and his chest falls and rises steadily. His face is serene, compared to how scrunched up it was before. 

Klaus frowns at Harold for a while but then shrugs, turning over and squishing up the pillow even more. Klaus would be out in six months and hopefully Klaus would find some good coke and forget all about Harold and his pity for the ghost he murdered. 


	2. warm honey over glass shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya and Klaus talk.

His prediction was true, much to Ben's irritation. As soon as Klaus got out of prison, after he gave his favourite guard,who grabbed him with a little too much nail action, a wink, Klaus found his most available drug dealer and got fucked on heroine. Not cocaine, but even Klaus likes a bit of Chinese after a week of junk food.   
  
Whilst Klaus was strapping his arm with a torque, and tapping the needle, he pauses as he thinks about Harold.   
  
During prison, the murderer started off kind, but Klaus quickly warded off after eventually changed rooms when Harold slowly started to turn...a bit loony (from Ben's words not Klaus's! He swears!). What turned from mutters under his breaths to full on ramblings in the showers, manifested into interrogating Klaus about the Academy. What was Reginald like? Who is the weakest link? Do you like Vanya? What's the dish between Diego and Luther? Simple gossip like that suddenly became, "if you could kill anyone in the academy who would it be? Why don't te yet members not the a shit about you? Tell me everything about Five."  
  
"Tell me everything about the Academy."  
  
Harold would often ramble about what else he wished e could've done to his father (scoop his eyes out with an ice cream scooped, cut his fingers off, watch him bleed out bit by bit- just to name a few). Then Klaus remembered Harold asking in detail about how Ben died (did his intestines hang out? Was he screaming in pain?) all while having a mangled grin on his face.   
  
And when those conversations became stunted by Ben's warnings and Klaus's awkward chuckles, Klaus nearly screamed when one night, he opened his eyes and Harold was an inch away from his face eyes crazed with anger and obsession and breathing heavily into his face, as if he had just been screaming in anger or sobbing in terror.   
  
Maybe it prison or the gruesome murder and abuse of his father, or the crippling loneliness and neglect his whole life that made Harold a twisted and bitter soul.   
  
Klaus shrugs, snorting at Ben's "come on man!" and lets himself be embraced by oblivion.   
  
// 30  
  
Dear old daddy is dead. Klaus could nearly skip with joy if his limbs weren't so strangely sore (something to do with the crippling drug abuse Klaus wasn't listening the last time he went to rehab.) Ben, as the sheltered man he is, had laughed with joy when the news came out on the news, trying to high five Klaus but then gave him a pointed look when his hand phased through.   
  
They were at the mansion. It felt weird being in a house that had so much pain attached to it. Klaus wanders around the halls for a while, before everyone came, indicated by Diego's boys stomping on the stairs. He pauses in front of Reginalds door.   
  
Klaus remembers how many late evening were spent there when Reginald would drag him back from the tomb and then berate him for such a poor performance. He would humiliate Klaus when daddy would laugh magically at how, sometimes, Klaus would so terrified he would urinate on himself, the sheer terror overwhelming him like a drugs unwanted and cursed. Other days, Reginald would make Klaus lean over to fireplace and smack his back with his cane. None of the others knew about this, Ben had only recently found out which made him cry for a while, but Klaus had an inkling that Reginald made Klaus his own personal punching bags when he was mad or just wanted to feel superior.   
  
Klaus clenches his hands and feels the tight tissue under the hand tattoos shift. Klaus chuckles inwardly when he thinks about how Reginald got his hands and pushed them into the fireplace, not stopping until Pogo had come to remind Reginald of a meeting with the mayor. Not stopping even when Klaus was vomiting from the force of his screams.  
  
(Harold caressed them one day and mentioned how his father was mad at him for playing with action figures and pushed needles into his finger tips. They both laughed afterwards.)  
  
Reginald's office is still the same. The same ashy fireplace the same looming lamp, the same framed newspaper articles and the same mountains of paper work. Klaus huffs and as petty revenge, pushes the stack over, grinning as it lands with a thud.   
  
He sits in the stiff armchair and starts to raid the drawers. Klaus yawns and starts to get up when his rehab bracket gets caught on a box. He pulls it out and guffaws at how elegant the box looks, decorated in gold and a pretty rich blue. I'll get a so much for this, Klaus thinks with a chuckle.   
  
When he picks it up, the box is heavy. Klaus frowns and opens it, expecting the tons of papers but not the the heavy leather book. He puts the box down and sits back in the armchair to read it.   
  
Number 7  
Power- ability to transfer auditory energy into kinetic energy  
Leads to explosions, levitation, combustion, movement of objects, including transportation and deformation   
High connection to emotions-  
  
Klaus yelps when he hears a high heeled footstep, obviously Allison, and his drug addict instinct comes out. To hide it away, smile too wide and lie. In a panic, he throws it out of the open window, wincing when the book hits the dumpster with a muffled bang.   
  
Allison comes in, on edge and on defense as usual and Klaus bullshits his way through. Rehab? No, no- hey it's a good thing dad is dead! Inside, Klaus is brimming with disbelief at what he's read; Vanya, dear Vanya who cried shallow tears, had powers. Quite strong powers if the list of what she was capable of could say anything.   
  
When he wanders out, still stinging at Luther's remarks, Klaus can feel his hands shaking. He wants to help Vanya, but his pride and his trust is still hurt at what she wrote in her book. The remarks, the experiences of how he thrived off Reginald's attention through rebellion, of how Klaus cried crocodile tears. Of how after Ben's death, Klaus often made jokes and commented on Ben's welfare as if he was still alive, showing how horrible Klaus was.   
  
Vanya attacked Ben as well, an attack that still has Klaus reeling. She dictated how Ben was a loner, a weirdo who liked books. She acknowledged how he was burdened with the Horror, but not once had she mentioned how Ben would come back drenched with blood or how his sobs would echo in the corridor.   
  
Pathetic, but it reminds Klaus of an animal hissing back, defensive but venomous.   
  
On the other hand, Klaus remembers how Vanya was a victim of life as well. She was neglected and left alone, her only company being her beloved violin and her regimented pills. The Academy was so caught up in their own coping mechanisms and trauma that they couldn't help Vanya.   
  
(Excuse after excuse after excuse sang a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Harold.)  
  
When Klaus finally comes down and blurs out Luther's speech, he could feel the warmth emanating off of Vanya and nods to himself.   
  
Yes, Klaus thinks, I won't abandon her. Not anymore.   
  
// 30 WITH 7 DAYS TO THE APOCOLYPSE  
  
Klaus sits in front of Vanya in the coffee shop with an awkward smile. Ben is lounging around next to him, trying and unsuccessfully blowing out the candle, groaning when it doesn't even flicker. Klaus shoots him a grin, but stops when he feels Vanya shifting.   
  
(He told Ben- of course he did! Ben was shocked, utterly, but couldn't stop the joyous grin that creeped up his face.)  
  
"So," Klaus says, voice drawling, "I just wanted to just- just say it okay?"  
  
"Klaus, I'm not going to give you money-"  
  
"What? No!" Klaus still feels a sting, "I.. I know we haven't been the closest of siblings when we were younger. You know, with the abuse," Vanya flinches, "And the whole, Vanya isn't cool enough to sit with us sort if thing," Klaus huffs out a laugh but Vanya fingers her coffee cup.   
  
"But I would really love to get closer with you. I don't want the money, I'm trying to stay sober for-" his eyes flicker to Ben, "my health. I want to change my life and redeem my sins so to speak. Starting with you."  
  
Klaus brings in a breath, "So, Vanya Hargreeves, will you let me make up years of neglect to you and finally act like a proper brother who'll give you amazing pedicures?"   
  
Vanya is silent but Klaus is patient as he watches her. Her shoulders are tense and her hands shake and he worries that he'll blow up in her face but when she looks up, she has tears dribbling down her face dribbling into her coffee.  
  
"Klaus- I- thank you. So much." She wipes her tears with the back of her hand and offers a smile, " I thought you'd hate me; everyone else has-for the book. I know I probably made you lol the worse, and I'm so sorry. I was just so angry st myself, at Reginald, and the whole world. "  
  
She scrunches her face up and a few more tears leaks, "If Ben was here, he'd be disgusted with me."  
  
"No, no, no- Klaus" Ben is desperately trying to clutch Vanya's hands but he keeps phasing though, "I don't hate her, I forgive her- tell her-"  
  
"Vanya," Klaus tries to keep his cool but can feel his voice tremble, "He loves you. He forgives you. I know it." He tilts her chin up and gives her hair a pat, making her let out a giggle.  
  
He wipes her tears and her body loosens as if years of guilt and anger have drained out of her body.  
  
(They have.)  
  
Klaus brings up his coffee cup and Vanya clinks it with hers making Ben snort weakly.  
  
"To Reginald being dead."  
  
They laugh but neither Klaus or Vanya see the shadow leaning against the window across the other side of the room.  
  
// 30, 6 DAYS AND 18 HOURS TO THE APOCALYPSE   
  
"Say," Klaus asks, cautious as they make their way down the street.   
  
(They had walked around the neighbourhood for a bit, cutting through the park. Vanya's nose had wrinkled when he pulled out a cigarette but had relaxed when Klaus teased that it was this or the drugs. Ben was trying to play with some dogs, making some cooing noises, but harumphed when they ignored him, making him giggle in a way that made Vanya look at him weird. )  
  
"If you don't mind , no pressure at all, can I stay at your place? Just for tonight?" Klaus made a show of begging with his hands but felt anxiety inside.   
  
Vanya shifted on her feet, looking at him through her eyelashes. "You promise you won't steal anything?"  
  
"Pinky swear!" He crosses his fingers over his chest, grinning as he says, "Cross my heart, hope to die!"  
  
  
// 30, 6 DAYS AND 15 HOURS TO THE APOCOLYPSE   
  
When Klaus is standing in Vanya's apartment, he feels a bit awkward. Considering he hasn't got a thing to his name, apart from the clothes on his back, his sister has done well. Her home is small, quaint but cosy. The living room was arranged nicely, grey sofas surrounding the glass table that had a pot of red flowers on it. Her violin is temporarily mantled onto the wall, kept safe and cherished. The TV was on, a soft blare as if she forgot to turn it off and if Klaus bent his neck he could see the crack of her bedroom door open. It is nice and Klaus felt like he had no right to intrude.   
  
(Even if it was really cosy, bits of loneliness drafts about. No pictures in the walls, no trophies or certificates, no cool ornaments on the drawers, apart from that wooden violin.)   
  
To hide his feelings, he bounces onto the sofa and clutches a pillow. Across from him Ben fiddles with the wooden statue (or at least tries to.)  
  
"Thank you so much V!" Klaus calls out because Vanya is in the kitchen heating up some food for them. She comes back and hands him some left over soup.   
  
"Sorry for how lame it is. I don't really cook much."   
  
"No! It's better than the ones in the soup kitchens, especially cus you don't need to fight for it." Ben lets out a chuckle but Vanya frowns.   
  
"Are you- are you homeless?"  
  
It's Klaus's turn to look baffled, "I mean, yeah? Where did you think I would be? It's not like I'm a Hollywood star like Allison or in the freaking moon." He takes a sip of his soup and hums.  
  
Vanya tenses beside him. "Oh. Im- I didn't know, I'm sorry. After Ben's death,I didn't even want to think about the Academy." Klaus hums again but still feels a pinch in his chest. It seemed that even the most docile of his siblings, sans the dead one, didn't care about Klaus.   
  
"Nah. It's cool. After I ran away after Ben's funeral, I stayed with my dealer for a while," he rolls his eyes "he always wanted me to do shit for him like, "oh Klaus, be a darling and give me a blowjob?" Or "Klaus, babe, can you hear up the heroine?" So. Annoying." Vanya lets out a quiet chuckle.  
  
"And since then?"  
  
Klaus blinks. "Since then?," he scratches his beard before snapping his finger, "I've just been in and out of the streets. Crashed on beds a lot when I was younger but thing about those yummy, yummy drugs is that it makes you annoying and everyone else annoying to you. So I just stayed on the streets. Alone."   
  
Klaus snorts when he hears Ben's "hey!"  
  
Vanya sighs, "that must have been hard." Klaus shrugs.  
  
"I mean, prison was okay. The withdrawal was a shit storm and jumpsuits were horrendous-"  
  
"You went to prison?!" Vanya shouts , nearly toppling over her soup.  
  
"Yeah? It was for prostitution or whatever. About time as well if you know what I mean, especially after my last overdose."  
  
"Prostitution? Overdose? What the hell Klaus?!" Vanya looks visibly anxious and Klaus pulls at her hands that are fisted into her jeans.   
  
"It's fine, V," Klaus soothes, "I'm better. We're better." Vanya relaxes a bit and stares at their joint hands.  
  
"You can't hide things like this from us like this Klaus." Klaus bites his tongue and doesn't mention how all of his siblings were his emergency contanct in the hospital and none of them had come to him when he got beaten up for wearing a skirt that was too short or when he overdosed hard enough that it made Ben not talk to him for a few days.   
  
Instead, he says, "Actually, there's one more thing I need to tell you."   
  
Ben murmurs out, "You sure?" To which Klaus nods determinedly.   
  
"On the day of the funeral, I was raiding through Dad's shit. I found a book and it said that you have po-"  
  
There was a knock at the door, loud like the blood in Klaus's ears. Ben frowns.   
  
Vanya startled before hurriedly glancing at the clock. She gets up and smooths her hair down, walking away with a loud, "I'm so sorry Klaus! I forgot I have lesson for today!"   
  
Klaus can feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands, realising how much little time he had to tell and teach Vanya her powers.   
  
He got up to tell her and to apologise to the kid who's lesson he would have barged into but Klaus pauses, before he could have stepped out of the room, when he hears Vanyas giggle.  
  
"Leonard! It's so nice to see you!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
